Chapter 462
One by one, they turned around, facing Ilux with faces full of anger that suddenly shifted into moral superiority.
Shouts began to rise from all directions, declaring that Ilux was no different from the students who had thrown food, that he was just as shameless, just as uncivilized, just as deserving of the humiliation he had endured all this time.
Those words pierced deeper than the wet food still clinging to his body, sharper than the cold drinks soaking his skin, more devastating than all the mockery he had received throughout the day.
Because those words did not come from clear enemies, not from a group that had shown hatred from the beginning, but from people who had previously remained silent, from those who were not involved, from those who might have become allies had he not exploded in the wrong way.
Ilux fell silent, his earlier blazing anger now mixed with the bitter realization that he had fallen into the same trap, that he had become like those he hated the most, that he had allowed hatred to turn him into a monster no better than his tormentors.
For a moment, something dark flickered in his eyes.
The urge to blow up the entire cafeteria, to destroy everything, to make everyone feel what he felt.
That power still existed within him, even though Xavier XVII was gone, even though he now only possessed the remaining Structural Armament, the fire of anger could still serve as enough fuel to create a devastating explosion that would be remembered throughout the history of Star Academy.
But at the last second, before that decision was made, before his hand could move to summon the power capable of destruction, something else held him back.
Not a voice from outside, nor a whisper from within, but the memory of consequences.
Of a teacher's reprimand, of the punishment he would receive, of the black record that would further worsen his life in this Academy.
With what remained of his consciousness still functioning amid the storm of anger, Ilux made the most difficult decision, a decision that would make him look like a coward in everyone's eyes.
He stood up, leaving his untouched food on the table stained with spills, and began walking out of the cafeteria.
His steps were quick, hurried, like someone fleeing from a battlefield, yet behind that speed lay the awareness that he was not running from an external enemy, but from the enemy within himself, from the anger that had nearly destroyed him, from the darkness that had almost taken control.
Behind him, from inside the cafeteria, loud laughter grew, louder, more satisfied, filled with the pleasure of having successfully driven their prey out of its nest.
That laughter followed him out the door, into the corridor that was beginning to empty, to a place where he could run faster without worrying about bumping into others.
"I don't need to record everything. The details are too many. And most of them are merely repetitions of the same human nature."
Theo's fingers slowly slipped into the folds of his clothes, pulling out a small yellow book that had been hidden in the fabric near his chest.
Its worn cover caught the light of the cafeteria's crystal lamps, reflecting a dim glow visible only to eyes sharp enough to notice such fine detail.
Behind a pillar, beneath an invisible veil that rendered his body untouchable and unseen by ordinary beings, Theo opened the same page where he had written two words just moments earlier.
His eyes briefly glanced at those two words, the title for a new chapter in Ilux Rediona's life, the words that would determine the direction of the first arc of episode eleven as it approached its critical point.
But there was no time for deeper reflection, because in front of him, Ilux had already disappeared at the end of the corridor, leaving behind wet and dirty traces that were slowly drying.
The pen in Theo's hand began to move, dancing across the yellow paper in a steady rhythm, leaving trails of black ink that would endure until the end of time, beyond the physical destruction of the book, beyond the death of anyone who had ever read or written in it.
The first sentence was neatly inscribed, using simple language yet capable of summarizing the entire complexity of what had just occurred.
About how the hungry Ilux decided to go to the cafeteria, about how he was smeared with food and drinks by those who hated him, about how he exploded in anger he could no longer restrain, about how he left behind laughter and mockery still echoing behind him.
The second sentence, shorter, sharper, more piercing, recorded Ilux's decision not to retaliate with violence even though the fire of anger nearly consumed him from within.
Only two sentences, no more, no less, yet their weight was enough to make the page feel heavier than before.
"What happened to him just now did not evoke any pity within me. I don't even feel the slightest sympathy. If anything, what I feel is quite the opposite."
Fhuuuh!
"I hope something far worse happens to him. For example… his clothes. It would be very interesting if all his clothes were suddenly torn apart. One by one. Just like what he once did to me."
As the small yellow book was neatly tucked back into the folds of his clothes, right near his chest, another vibration suddenly spread from the depths of consciousness.
Not a disturbing vibration, nor one demanding an immediate response, but one that came with full awareness that it had the right to speak, even after previously being told to remain silent.
Aldraya's voice was heard again, still with its characteristic flat tone, yet this time there was something different in the way the words were arranged.
No longer an open resistance as before, nor a declaration of war that would never fade, but a statement more personal, deeper, touching the very core of the wound she had long kept to herself.
Aldraya expressed that she would not choose to feel sorrow.
Not because she was incapable of feeling sadness, nor because she had reached a level of enlightenment where negative emotions no longer had any effect, but because sadness was a luxury she could not afford while hatred still burned fiercely within her chest.
Sadness was for those who still had hope, for those who believed something could be fixed, for those who had not yet lost everything.
And Aldraya, after what had happened between her and Ilux, after everything she had nearly experienced at the hands of her own student, had passed the point where sadness remained relevant.
What remained was only hatred, pure hatred untainted by any other emotion, hatred that would become the fuel for something she had yet to understand its form.
But Aldraya did not stop there.
Her flat voice continued to flow, spreading through the spaces of consciousness at a pace neither rushed nor hesitant.
She began to tell something she had perhaps only kept for herself all this time, something too painful to reveal yet too heavy to keep buried.
To be continued…